


Those Damn Jungle Jobs

by meils121



Category: Leverage
Genre: Gen, Gunshot Wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26055022
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meils121/pseuds/meils121
Summary: The safe house is a shack, because you don’t do a retrieval job anywhere near the Peru-Colombia border and not get a shack as a safe house.  At least, Quinn’s never had that happen, and he’s been doing this a long time.  At least there’s running water, Quinn thinks, as he does his best to keep Spencer sitting upright in the one chair the place has.  God, they both need to start being smarter about the jobs they agree to.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28
Collections: The Leverage Exchange Master Collection





	Those Damn Jungle Jobs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [musingmidge77](https://archiveofourown.org/users/musingmidge77/gifts).



They should both be dead.

Quinn winces as he has to put weight on his bad ankle. Sprained, probably. But he’s mobile and Spencer is - 

Spencer is lucky he’s not dead.

Actually, Quinn thinks as he does his best to haul Spencer half over his shoulder so he can lug him down the flight of stairs, he’s not sure if Spencer is lucky or not. He’s got some bad injuries - a couple of gunshot wounds to his side and leg, a busted nose and a few busted ribs, a shoulder that’s hanging in a way it shouldn’t. There’s almost more to deal with than Quinn can quite figure out how to do. But he’s patched Spencer up enough to keep the bleeding to a minimum while he gets them back to the safe house. They’ll just have to figure things out from there.

He manages to dump Spencer in the passenger seat, trying not to think about how much it’s gonna cost to get the car detailed this time. Blood can be a bitch to get out, and then there’s the let’s-pretend-this-isn’t-blood hush money on top of that. Spencer groans as the car goes over a bump.

“Hang in there.” Quinn says. They’re a good ways out from the safe house still. Eliot’s starting to wake up a little more, but that’s only increasing the amount of pain he’s feeling. “Hold still, Spencer, it’s like you’ve never been shot before.”

He knows Spencer is in too much pain to snark back. He still finds the answering silence uncomfortable.

The safe house is a shack, because you don’t do a retrieval job anywhere near the Peru-Colombia border and not get a shack as a safe house. At least, Quinn’s never had that happen, and he’s been doing this a long time. At least there’s running water, Quinn thinks, as he does his best to keep Spencer sitting upright in the one chair the place has. God, they both need to start being smarter about the jobs they agree to.

Right now, though, he’s got to get Spencer stitched up before he bleeds through the temporary bandages. 

Quinn fills a questionably clean bowl he finds in an otherwise empty cupboard with warm water. He’s got a first aid kit in his bag, and Spencer’s got one too. Hopefully there’s enough between the two kits to get Spencer all patched up.

Spencer is, predictably, little help. He actually has the gall to growl at Quinn at one point. To be fair, he’s digging a bullet out of Spencer’s side at the time, but still. Some respect would be nice. 

The shoulder is easy enough to pop back in place. The bullet wounds are more than a graze but they didn’t hit anything too serious. Spencer’s gonna be weak with all that blood loss, but he’ll recover. Quinn can’t do much at all for Spencer’s nose and the ribs are just gonna need some time to heal up on their own.

He’s finishing up now, stitching up the one laceration he found on the back of Spencer’s head. Spencer has gone from grumbling under his breath to swaying a little, the blood loss and the pain really starting to get to him. Quinn helps him move from the chair to the floor. There’s no bed in the safe house, nothing but a lumpy backpack to rest their heads on, but it’ll do. They’ve both slept in worse conditions. Spencer’s out within a matter of minutes. Their ride out of here is still a few hours away. It won’t do him nothing but good to rest up while they’ve got nothing better to do.

Quinn uses the time to patch himself up. The ankle is sore and needs a wrap, but he used pretty much all of those on Spencer, so it’ll have to wait until they’re somewhere a bit more civilized. He’s got a throbbing pain on the right side of his face that he’s just now noticing, a sure sign of a black eye to come. It’s not the first and it won’t be the last. Other than that, though, he’s in pretty good shape. 

Their ride out turns out to be a helicopter that takes them to an airfield a good hour away. They’re taking separate planes from here - Quinn off to his next job and Spencer to heal up with his latest girlfriend for a week or two. Spencer’s at least hobbling around on his own when they get off the helicopter. 

“Hey.” Spencer says over the noise of the copter and the planes. Quinn looks back at him. Spencer looks like he’s in bad pain again. “I, uh, I owe you. Just do me a favor and call me for a job that’s not in some damn jungle.”

Quinn has to laugh at that. “Deal.” He says.


End file.
